“Thank you. It does make me feel better.”
“You know, Lydia, I really don’t think Brig’s going to do anything here at the house. He’s not going to want to reveal his true colors to Irish.”
“Perhaps he already has,” Lydia said. “Irish rarely mentions Brigham. If he finds his absence from Ballaburn odd, he has yet to say so. Sometimes I wonder…I don’t know…it’s hard to make sense of it all.”
“Youdon’t make sense. What is it that you wonder?”
“Well, I’ve asked myself if we haven’t overestimated Irish’s esteem and affection for Brigham. Perhaps he really does believe that Brig’s capable of everything I told him.”
“Then why hasn’t he discarded the second will and ended the wager? Or are you saying Irish really wants Brig to have Ballaburn?”
“No!”
“Then what?”
Lydia studied her hands in her lap. Unconsciously she massaged the place where her wedding ring had been. Irish told her she hadn’t earned it back yet. “If he ended the wager there would be no reason for me to be here. You would be entitled to Ballaburn outright and I would be perfectly free to choose where I wanted to live. I know Irish hated it when I went to Sydney. I think he may have used events to his advantage. I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“He has no reason to think you’re ever going to leave me,” Nathan said. “You’ve played your part of the loving wife to perfection these past eight days.”
“Perhaps neither of us is the actor we think we are,” she said quietly. “Irish may be seeing right through our charade.”
Nathan was silent, thoughtful. He added some tea to his cup and warmed his palms around it. “It’s something to think about, isn’t it,” he said at last.
“Yes.” Lydia began to organize things on the tray Nathan had brought in.
“Leave it,” he said. “I’ll take it all back to the kitchen. You go on up to bed.’
Lydia’s busy, fluttering hands stilled. She avoided looking at Nathan in the event he was looking at her. “All right.” Getting to her feet, Lydia smoothed her gown across her abdomen. “Will you be very long?” she asked.
“Long enough.”
Not certain she wanted to know what that meant, Lydia carried herself off to bed.
“Bail up, mates!”
The Cobb & Co. coach was already slowing down when the order to halt was given. Three men on horseback blocked the narrow road and a quick look over his shoulder assured the driver a fourth man was coming at the coach from behind. The driver dropped his reins and held up his hands as the order was repeated. The man riding shotgun put down his weapon without firing.
The bushrangers were a scrubby lot, heavily bearded, and four of them riding together gave rise to speculation among the Cobb & Co. passengers. The most famous highwaymen in Australia were the Kelly gang and four made up their number. They did whatever struck their fancy: looting, ravaging, drinking to excess, and dancing till dawn with an entire town they held captive. They were also murderers. As much as they were admired by the general population for their daring and defiance, no one particularly wanted to be on the wrong end of their pistols.
The Cobb & Co. riders were almost obsequious in their efforts to give the bushrangers what they wanted. The strongbox containing mail and money was handed over quickly. The passengers filed out of the coach and stood quietly in line while they were stripped of their valuables. In a few minutes they were herded back inside, a shot was fired, and the coach was on its way again, each rider formulating the tale that would be related again and again about the encounter with the infamous Kelly gang.
After the coach was out of sight Brig shot open the lock on the strongbox. “You blokes can have whatever you like when I’m done,” he said, rummaging through the contents.
“It was as easy as you said it would be, mate,” one of them said. “We were as game as Ned Kelly.”
Behind Brig’s heavy beard and mustache he sneered. “Don’t let it go to your head. They thought wewerethe Kelly gang. Why do you think I asked only three of you to help? And you there, Zach, with your black beard and brows, look as like a Kelly as Ned himself.” There was dead silence from his helpers as they considered the import of Brig’s observation. “Right,” Brig said, rising. He held up an envelope. “I’ve got what I want. The rest is yours. I think you know not to brag about this incident. Kelly may hear of it and wonder why he’s not a richer man for his exploits. G’day, gentlemen.” Mounting his horse, Brig cut a path into the bush and disappeared over the crest of a hill.
While the horseswere being exchanged, the passengers talked excitedly in the large kitchen at Ballaburn, recounting their face-to-face experience with the Kelly gang. Lydia helped Tess and Molly serve refreshments and listened as avidly as they to the tales being shared. Irish wheeled in his chair from the hallway and Nathan came in the back door, the coach driver at his side. As the driver moved further into the room, Lydia went to stand beside her husband.
“He’s told you what happened?” she asked in hushed tones.
Nathan nodded. He put his arm around Lydia’s waist and drew her closer to his side. Above her head his expression was troubled. After a few minutes of listening to the passengers, Nathan bent his head and whispered against Lydia’s ear, “Come outside with me a moment.”
Lydia followed Nathan out of the house. The day was cloudy and breezy and she batted at her gown to keep it from billowing all around her. Nathan offered her his jacket, which she didn’t accept. “A moment, you said,” she reminded him. “What is so important that we need talk about it out here?”
“This isn’t Kelly country, Lydia. Ned’s gang raids towns farther south of here. If those passengers want to think they’ve been held up by Ned Kelly, then let them, but I don’t believe it.”
“What are you saying?”
